Faded Glory
by Delgodess
Summary: "Pathetic. Eater of Worlds and fate pits me against a weakling."
1. Surprised Glory

**Disclaimer: Skyrim and all its characters, places, etc are the property of Bethesda.**

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She wasn't ready.

Everything about this encounter screamed it.

His shadow loomed over head and she dived, red-hot fire licking at her back and singeing her hair. She rolled to her feet, gasping for breath and wincing at the light burns on her neck. She ran, sure feet glancing over rocks and ice, snow whipping past her and harsh mountain wind cutting her cheeks.

The fort entrance was just yards away, its thick stone walls molded into the face of the mountains surface, stretching up in an impenetrable wall. He was gaining on her, his great black wings ripping through the air as he roared her name.

"Dovahkiin!"

His shout brought her skidding to her knees and she screamed, back arching as pain tore through her. He said it like a curse, imbuing all his hate, distain and loathing into the word and flinging it at her.

She trembled as she rocked forward, cloak snapping behind her as she forced herself to stumble blindly through the snow and ice in a desperate attempt to reach safety.

They had said she had time. They had said that he didn't know who she was. How could they have been so incredibly blind? He knew her _Name._ Oh _Gods_, her _Name!_

She tripped when she entered the fort's tunnel entrance, body sprawling and lightly covered limbs smashing on the hard rock. The ground shook when he landed, ice and dirt falling on her as she dragged herself to her feet, sprinting up the inclined tunnel. She knew it led to an open courtyard atop the fort and to the entrance of the mountain caves. He wouldn't be able to get to her in there. She would be safe inside the dark narrow passageways.

The dragon dug at the entrance, wicked talons shrieking against the rock as he hissed and growled.

"Dovahkiin!"

She gasped, falling against the old stone wall and biting a fist to stop herself from screaming. She chanced a look back outside only to throw herself down moments later. She covered her head as ice shards shattered above her, the cold fragments slicing into her unprotected skin. She glanced up, squinting through the gloom. The end of the tunnel was still so far away!

He snapped his maw shut, ending his shout and sending the sound reverberating up the tunnel and into her skull. She stood and franticly took a deep breath.

"WULD NAH KEST!"

Her searing Shout brought her just past the exit and into the courtyard. Head shaking from dizziness, she hurried to the other side, leaping over fallen pillars and skidding over the iced stonework. The frozen air burned her lungs, squeezing itself past her stinging, raw throat. She felt more that heard him take flight again as she slammed into the wall opposite the tunnel.

Her anxiety grew as she raked her numb hands over the frozen vines covering the ancient metal door she had run into, desperately ripping them off. Distantly, she noticed that her hands bled and that the winter wind made the cuts on her body sting. She grabbed the burning cold handle ring and pulled harshly.

The door didn't budge.

He roared overhead and she sobbed, the sound wheezing out as she pathetically braced her booted feet against the stonework and pulled with adrenaline filled limbs. Slowly, carefully, the metal door creaked open. With just enough room for her to enter, she squeezed her small form through and turned to drag the door closed.

"Dovahkiin!"

She sagged at his voice, head flopping against the gateway and body going limp as her mouth opened in a silent scream.

He hovered over the balcony of the courtyard, wings beating the air and hard, sharp, obsidian body blocking out the world beyond. She watched helplessly, paralyzed with pain, as he took a deep breath and Shouted. She cringed, closing her eyes at her imminent death.

She blinked stupidly moments later, surprised at her still beating heart.

She pulled herself up, clinging to the door in exhaustion and freezing at the sight before her.

The dragon, his wings once outstretched, stood suspended in the air above the courtyard, black leathery appendages wrapped around himself and head tucked beneath them. Slowly, then gaining speed, his scales began _shifting_.

His form shrank, bones snapping, and limbs disappearing behind the writhing mass of flesh. She had stopped breathing, staring in horror at the spectacle before her. She inched behind the door, wanting to tear her gaze away but being unable to.

Then, just as quickly as it had begun, it stopped.

The wings quivered before snapping open, revealing the form of the Dovah turned Man.

He was fully armored, ebony spikes protruding sharply from his breast plate and leggings, emphasizing the wings extended fully behind him. The snow whirled harshly about him as he glided softly to the courtyard, landing without a sound on the frost covered stone.

He stretched, wings extending, before closing and sinking slowly into his body. The helmet on his head, no, the scales, ruffled, folding in on themselves and sinking down his neck to his chest. Hair, long and dark, flowed out and danced about the jagged horned spikes at his temple. She stood still, awed by his terrifying beauty. Then he opened his eyes.

Horrible ruby clashed with amber.

She gasped, slamming the door shut and running like the frightened mortal that she was.

She bit her lip, drawing blood.

He wasn't supposed to be able to do that. They _swore_ it was impossible. How was she supposed to escape him now?

She turned a corner, activating a Nightseye spell so she could see in the darkness around her. She flinched as she heard an explosion behind her, the thick metal door flying and hitting the corner she had just turned. She glanced back at it and gulped. It was warped; the huge dent in it looking like had been made from a hand.

She turned another corner and stumbled over traitorous roots, shutting her eyes as tightly as she could to prevent herself from being blinded. Deactivating her spell and looking about, she quickly came to the conclusion that she was doomed.

The open space before her was a huge cavern, light and snow streaming in from the open ceiling and falling softly on the small underground stream flowing through it. Ferns littered the edge, growing stubbornly over the fallen rocks and debris. She eyed the cavern, lamenting the lack of a visible exit and franticly searching for a place to hide.

In the center was a wall, its words whispering,_ begging_ to be read. With sinking dread, she realized that she had lead the most powerful being in all of Skyrim to the ultimate scene of betrayal. If he wasn't pissed now, he defiantly would be when he saw _that_.

She gulped, soothing her enflamed throat then pulling her grey hood down and tightening the cloth covering the lower half of her masked face.

She wasn't ready.

Good _Gods_, she wasn't ready.

She spotted a shadowed outcropping, the dark space hidden neatly by some nearby ferns. Darting towards it, she wedged herself between two rocks and lay flat on the damp earth below. Flinging her dark cloak around her and sucking in a quick breath, she stilled her trembling body and forced herself to listen.

His footsteps were soft and even, as if he had all the time in the world. Which he probably did.

She didn't even know how he had found her. Or why he had sought her out. 'I'm going to _die_.' she thought with dread. 'I just _know_ it.' She sighed softly, then stilled.

He was standing not two feet from her hiding place and she could just barely make out the back of his armored heel. Her eyes widened and she held her breath.

Then she was flying through the air, leather-clad body connecting with a disturbing crunch on the floor near the word wall. She moaned, wincing when he appeared and dragged her up, long fingers grabbing hold of her cloth-covered hair.

"Dovahkiin."

She shuddered.

He looked her over, taking in her filthy, ragged form and sneering. It twisted his otherworldly features, turning his pale skin and sharp cheek-boned face into an ugly semblance of beauty.

"Pathetic. Eater of Worlds and fate pits me against a weakling."

He tossed her again, throwing her small body into the word wall. It shuddered, raining down sand and dust as she crumpled, barely holding back a groan of pain. Her cloak fell over her, as if to shield her from further harm.

"I can smell your fear, mortal. You _reek_ of it."

He spoke disdainfully, the rough baritone rolling through her like a whispered Shout. He stalked forward, lithe body covering the space between them quickly. Hand extended, his long fingers reached down for her yet again.

She flinched back from his touch, pressing herself against the grey stone behind her in a vain attempt to get away. Scoffing and grabbing her painfully by the throat, he lifted her off the ground, her leather clad legs dangling in the air. She choked, gasping when he slammed her into the wall and pushed the air from her lungs. For once she wished that her mask didn't cover the lower half of her face, its damp material welding onto her mouth as she struggled for air.

"So fragile. So small, my supposed conquer. I could snap you lik-"

He broke off, striking eyes wandering sharply away from hers to something just above her head.

His grip slackened and she inhaled, the precious air flooding her lungs. Disbelief covered his face, morphing quickly into fury. Her gloved hands pushed weakly against his arm, snapping his attention back to her. His hand tightened.

"What is this?" He tugged her closer, words hissing lowly at her.

She struggled to remember, to understand what he was talking about, when suddenly she felt it.

The carvings dug into her back, their power pounding through her, _whispering_, _calling_. She felt her body go limp as her mind listened to the words, forever burning them into her memory. Vaguely, she noticed how the once still cave whirled with energy, the bright light whipping around her and her captor. Her soul cried out in triumph, the Dovah within basking in its new found power. Then, to her horror, she felt the familiar searing agony as the words forced their way past her aching lungs, her bruised throat and tore at her vocal cords in a Shout that ripped through her very being.

"FUS RO DAH!"

He was thrown from her, his nails leaving angry red lines on her skin as he flew back and crashed into the very outcropping she had hid beneath. It shattered, his body creating a sizeable crater before coming to a skidding halt near the tunnel.

She wheezed, coughing up blood and shakily trying to stand. The Shout and lack of oxygen had made her dizzy and she wavered.

She didn't see him coming until he was already upon her.

He seized her by her cloak, bringing her up before tossing her like a ragdoll.

"You would _Dare_!" He roared, the growling undertones of his voice booming out as if he were in his true form.

She landed in the stream, the cold water shocking her foggy mind to awareness like nothing else could. She scrambled up the rocky riverbed, grasping fingers digging into the roots and whipping at fern leaves in a frantic attempt to get to the now exposed tunnel entrance.

She had changed her mind.

Being outside was _way_ better than being inside.

She felt blood leaking down her chin and neck, sinking into her mask. She sprinted down the tunnel, hearing his enraged Shout behind her and then feeling an icy coolness envelope her body. Her outer cloak froze, the frost creeping quickly up the cloth. She ripped it off as she ran, skirting around the dark corners and hurling into walls. She ignored the warped metal door, amber eyes seeking the bright light of the courtyard.

There was a loud bang and she was falling, bruised and bloody form sliding into the base of a broken stone pillar standing just outside. She rose quickly, starting to run but failing as an all too familiar hand whipped her around by the back of her leather chest piece. She was slammed into the pillar, arms striking out and legs kicking.

Her eyes met his and he grunted, batting her hands away and punching her harshly in the jaw. She stilled, blinking away stars before glaring up at him.

He smirked as he pinned her and she noticed with no little satisfaction that his mouth was bloody. It opened in a snarl.

"I want to see your face before you die."

His unoccupied hand reached for her mask and she struggled, pulling her head as far away as she could. He growled lowly, jerking her closer and ripping the mask from her.

Then promptly dropped her in shock.

She fell, unable to catch herself, long red hair falling out of her clothing in an arc as her head collided abruptly with the ice covered ground. She heard his voice faintly as she lost consciousness.

"The Dovahkiin is… female?"

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**AN: So the simple idea was that Alduin never expected the Dovahkiin to be a woman. I imagine that he would be expecting this huge, burly, accomplished warrior, or at least a rogue, but never well… **_**this**_**. It seriously just threw him for a loop.**

**Any who, review please. Good, bad, whatever, I'm always looking for ways to improve!**

**Please Review!**

**~Delgodess**


	2. Crowning Glory

When the Imperial Guard had asked her name, she had been dumbfounded to find that she didn't have an answer. So she stared at him instead, pleading eyes wide with horror as the sound of iron sinking through flesh echoed in the courtyard.

He had stared back unflinchingly, repeating the question once more, before huffing at her silence.

But the roister still needed a name.

So, in an action far too soft for his unforgiving features, the Guard had taken a strand hair that had fallen from her long braid and gently tucked it behind her ear.

"It's almost as if embers of fire have caught hold of your head." He said thoughtfully, softening at the sight of her frightened form.

The comment was strange, odd even, but the Guard was nodding to himself, scratching at the parchment briskly before gesturing firmly at the line of prisoners standing at attention across from them.

"Off you go, then, Ember."

So she went, and took her new name with her. It suited her, with her autumn colored hair and golden eyes. But the acceptance of a name did little to dampen the panic she felt as a black shadow fell over them.

Much of the next few hours were a blur, fear and confusion coupling with the dreadful feeling of being lost, of not knowing one's self. In the lonely hours after Helgen fell, she had racked her mind for any hint of who she was.

And discovered nothing.

The simple shift she wore was generic, common for anyone, and gave her no clues. They told her that she was Norse, though her eyes were a peculiar color and the strands on her head were more vibrant than any they had ever seen. But they could tell her nothing else.

It didn't explain how she could understand the hissing tongue of the Argonian dock workers at Solitude, or why the Dunmer merchant in Windhelm looked so surprised when she answered him with a teasing proverb, native only to Morrowind.

Neither did it explain how the shadows seemed to envelop her when she wished or how she could still the air in her lungs to a whispering breath. Everything about her was an unknown; it left her feeling hollow and hopeless.

Then she found her family: Brynjolf, Vex, Sapphire. She learned that she was Dragonborn, though it meant little to them that she was. She had been happy, content in the role of a thief and gloriously oblivious to the Prophecy of the Greybeards.

Then they'd called her. And like a naive child, she had come running, unaware of the avalanche Fate had waiting, ready to crush her.

And so here she was.

Though she couldn't be sure where, exactly, _here_ was.

Ember floated on a sea of semi-consciousness, thoughts like frothy bubbles, prodding at her, but with little effect. She sighed, stubbornly pushing images of her 'past' away and basking in this pleasant feeling of nothingness. It was almost like that one time she'd tried skooma, she mused, though the affect wasn't lasting nearly as long.

That she was breathing was a good thing, she concluded. She took another lazy breath, her waking mind returning to consciousness in slow, careless fragments.

It was warm, perhaps too warm, but it had been so long since she'd had this foreign luxury, that she ignored the slight discomfort it brought and chose instead to lay still for a while, sighing again as she did so.

The air tasted dry and spicy, stealing the moisture from her mouth, and she suddenly came to the realization that she was parched.

The skin of her forehead wrinkled between her closed eyes as she floated in this not-quite comfortable heat, something nagging at her.

Something important.

Devastatingly so.

A creak met her ears, metal grinding against metal, and her belly flopped within her as her bed moved. She jerked, eyes still closed, still processing what her senses told her at a disturbingly slow pace. The ground beneath her was swaying gently, its surface unbelievably hard.

Ember shifted, trying to find the comfort she had just been embracing, but it eluded her. Bare skin scraped against something rough and her eyes finally flew open, aghast to find that save for her underclothes, she was naked.

She curled in on herself, frantic gestures over exaggerated in her panic. Her blood hummed, mind now sharp and scanning for danger.

Ember's golden eyes took in the thick iron bars surrounding her, blinking back water as smoke from an enormous bonfire beneath her reached with gaping red jaws to envelop her prison.

Sweat beaded at her lip and at the nape of her neck. She could feel it gathering in other places, creating a sheen on her body. Her hair was loose, falling around her like a fiery veil.

Her gaze darted beyond the contorts of what had to be her cage, catching on the swirling shapes of a mural before her, covering the entirety of a stone wall.

It was one she was familiar with, depicting the Prophecy, _her Prophecy_, with a small armored figure facing down a Shadow of Spikes and Fire.

Alduin and the Dragonborn.

But the image was somehow _wrong_ and it took her a moment to figure out _why_.

It was too new.

Where was the weather marks? The crumbling that comes with age?

In fact, every surface she looked to seemed fresh and clean, like it had all been carved the day before.

A raised platform caught her eye, the giant surface inlayed with ebony and sticking out at the far end of the room like a gigantic throne. Across from it was an enormous archway, obviously an entrance of some kind, because she could distinctly make out the beam of daylight that stole its way past the enormous and intricate ebony doors framing said entrance. The fire pit and subsequently, her cage, lay at the halfway point between them.

Ember unwrapped herself, daring to lean closer to the bars. The ground swayed and she with it, like a sailor on a ship. She glanced up, unsurprised to find that her prison was hanging by a single, thick length of chain, much like a bird cage. Save for the hungry grumblings of the fire, it was deathly silent in the empty room. She shifted again, desperate to farther her observations, but gasped as pain rippled through her.

Adrenaline and shock had dulled her wounds, but now that she was fully aware and awake, they screamed at her like hellhounds. Ember looked at herself closely, surprised to find light, pink scars spider-webbing her body. The wounds were still tender, the flesh pink and puckered. Someone, however, had cleaned them, though roughly, if the raw skin surrounding them was anything to go by.

Ember had little time to wonder why she was left alive in the first place, let alone healed, when suddenly there was a flurry of movement.

Draugr, withered and ancient, emerged from shadowed alcoves lining the walls, falling into rank on either side of the great hall. Some moved towards the door, opening it wide with their shriveled hands before flanking it.

The whole spectacle unnerved Ember, who had never seen the undead creatures move with such precision before. Their usually lumbering steps were sure with silent purpose, the rasping of old skin barely audible, despite so many in one place.

The hairs on the back of her neck rose and she unconsciously held her breath, seeking a shadow to sink into when there was none.

Dragon Priests appeared next, startling her, because Ember_ knew_ she had killed some of them.

But there they were, alive.

Sort of.

Ember felt a hysterical giggle bubble up her raw throat, but she choked it back down, stifling her panic. She gulped, still parched, but noted that the tingling burn from her last shout had faded. The rawness must be from the smoke.

Turning her attention back, she saw that they had taken places around the platform, expectantly turning all their masked faces towards the entrance.

The flapping of many leathery wings alerted her to the dragons' entrance, though not so many appeared as she would have thought. They swooped in, sending gusts of wind to roil the fire, before banking and settling along perches dug into the upper walls. She shivered at their silent passing, despite the heat that was becoming intolerable.

Ember could feel a tremor rattle her arms, her tell for nervousness and fear. They were all so quiet, so unbelievably still, that she found herself tensing, balking at the unnaturalness of it all. She could feel their eyes, viciously satisfied at her predicament. She glanced up at them, surprised at their variety and color, but unsurprised by their unrelenting stares. She looked away, her blood singing in her ears and her dovah soul growling with anticipation.

Then like the day on the snowy ruin, a shadow blocked out the sunlight.

His entrance was grand, like a dark creature from her nightmares, and Ember was distracted enough to jump when the shouting started. The Dov called down from their high places, words of glory and victory. The Dragon Priests showered their Master with adoration and praise. Even the Draugr spoke, though what they said was beyond Ember. And through it all, his glowering red eyes watched her.

He moved deeper into the hall, blade-like claws clinking against the smooth granite surface. His spiked form was larger than what she remembered, though she seemed only able to recall flashes of black in the sky. He was bigger than any dragon she had ever seen, perhaps twice as big in comparison to those on the balconies. His scaled neck arched tall; proud, as his horned head came level with her cage. His face had a harsh beauty, an uncommon sharpness and for a moment, all Ember could feel was awe. He was close enough to touch and she resisted the absurd urge to do so, coming back to her senses when the dragon's features shifted into something similar to a smirk.

Then he ducked beneath her prison, walking through the fire instead of around it, his back a sea of jagged spines and flames as the fire reached up to kiss his armored flesh. She stood before she realized it, following him to the edge of her barred cell. Flickering images of the dovah's face, his human face, snarling and furious, flashed in her mind's eye. She wondered if the image was real.

The crowd had become silent and one of the Priests' had begun talking, rasping voice ringing out in the throne room.

"All Hail Alduin, World Eater, God of Destruction!"

The masses cheered, replying. "All Hail Alduin!"

The Priest continued, but Ember could no longer pay attention to his words, amber eyes transfixed upon the one they praised, watching as her enemy sat regally on the platform, tail wrapped around his legs and wings folded impressively at his sides.

It was a coronation ceremony, Ember realized, dumbfounded. They were crowning him and she wasn't even dead yet. But, she supposed, that was the point. A trophy hung up for decoration. It was humiliating, but not so much because she was shamed as the Dragonborn. She knew she was lousy in that respect. Color rose in her cheeks because she had the eyes of fifty, if not more, of the World Eater's followers locked on her _almost naked body_.

"Hail Alduin! Hail Alduin!"

The roaring shouts pittered off into silence and she flinched when he addressed her, growling voice echoing in the hall.

"What say you, Dovahkiin?"

She bit her lip, hands tightening to a knuckle-white grip as a shudder traveled through her.

Curse that name!

He moved to stand, bringing his form close again, eyes glowing malevolently, cutting her.

Ember didn't know how to react. She had always been, first and foremost, a thief. Not a warrior. Not a hero. But he was going to kill her; she could see it in those ruby depths. And he would relish every moment of his victory. So she did what any self-respecting thief would do when confronted with the executioners' axe.

She spat in his face.

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**AN: I have no idea where I'm going with this and honestly, hadn't thought about it. I had nagging inspiration the other day about this fic and came up this this chapter. So this is what I have to ask: Firstly, how did I do? See any mistakes that I can fix? And secondly, do you have any idea's as to where I should go with it? Just need a little pod in a direction. **

**Any way, Review!**

**~Delgodess**


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